Date 21/12/2059, Location 38.86537, 62.66464

Aswon and Hunter both went and sat on top of separate dunes surrounding the camp. Hunter moved to get away from the remaining odour from the fire and to switch off his internal air tank, breathing clean fresh desert air and letting the drugs slowly fade from his system. His muscles and spine ached from his efforts to break free, but as he replayed the events of the night, a smile tugged at his lips. Nobody had ever accused him of being pretty, that much was certain – but nobody on the team would ever now think of him as weak.

Aswon laid out flat and stared up at the stars, taking advantage of the drugs coursing through his system to expand his consciousness, examining what he was, what he had done and what he would do. His breathing slowed as he concentrated, face upturned to the vista of the Milky Way laid out before him. He meditated, slowing his breathing more and tensing his body. As he focussed more and more, he examined the processes of his self. The nerves on his skin still firing messages as the wind blew past him – he examined and then filtered out. The coldness of the sandy soil under his body – he examined and then filtered out. The smell of the camp fire and his own unwashed body – examined and filtered out.

One by one the senses were experienced, sampled, and then ignored. His conscious mind focussed tighter and tighter, as his senses drilled down, further and further. At the core of his being, his heart beat slowly – 'lub dub', over and over. As he sank deeper into his trance, the beat slowed, the gap between them growing. His focus tightened, until he seemed to be entirely the beating of the heart, the valves squeezing and relaxing as they pumped blood around his body. With conscious effort, he reached down towards that life giving organ… lub dub, lub dub, lub…..dub. Time stretched, and for a moment the body was perfectly still, all processes suspended, nothing moving. A moment of perfect stillness and utter clarity. The perfect time to squeeze the trigger.

Lub dub, lub dub… his heartbeat returned to normal, his senses expanded again and the body trembled in the cold night air. Slowly his eyes opened and focussed. A hand dipped into a pouch, pulling out a sliver of jerky which was popped into his mouth and slowly chewed as he contemplated what he'd just done. Interesting…

Shimazu meanwhile sat with the drummers around the camp fire, grooving to the beat and letting the music wash over and through him, his hands tapping a beat on the sheathed sword that lay across his lap. His normally inscrutable face showed emotion, and he swayed from side to side, feeding off the rhythm and focussing on his feelings. After a few minutes he gracefully leant forwards, his powerful thighs flexing and he stood in one fluid motion. He kicked off his shoes and worked his socks off, all the time with his eyes closed and upper body continuing to sway to the music. Bare feet gripped the sandy soil, about a shoulder width apart. His body stopped for a moment, then on a beat, the sword was drawn and the scabbard dropped. The blade flashed around him in a complex pattern, then as the drums hit a beat it flashed out into a strike, the tip perfectly still. It held for a moment, then recovered, and continued to weave a pattern around him. Again as the drummers hit a note it thrust out, held, then recovered.

The drummers increased their pace, and so did the movements of the sword. Faster at first, then slower, the blade moving in graceful sweeps and arcs, thrust and riposte. The drummers beat out a pattern, and the sword danced for them, flashing around Shimazu's body in a complex web of steel. Firelight reflected off the ancient blade. For an hour, the crowd was mesmerised by the masterful display of swordsmanship. Sweat coursed down Shimazu's body, but he controlled his breathing and his movements were steady, despite tremors in his limbs. He sliced with the blade one last time, held the strike and then returned to a guard position. Slowly he lowered the blade, then bent to recover the scabbard. He slid the blade away carefully, then took the scabbard in both hands and sank to his knees, laying the sword ahead of him. Slowly he bowed, his forehead lightly touching the scabbard, hands laid out on the ground either side, palms upturned. He held the position for thirty seconds, then rocked back, and moved into a sitting position, reaching for his socks and shoes and ignoring the awestruck crowd around him.

He collected the sword from the ground ahead of him, his fingers grasping the handle and scabbard. There was an electric tingle as his hand grasped them, a connection at some deep spiritual level. Now the sword was his, regardless of how he had come by it. But with that ownership came the responsibility to bring honour to the blade and the history of his art. In his mind he saw the hammer descending on the cherry red steel, thousands and thousands of times, the sweat and blood that had gone into its creation. The sword had been made by artisans hundreds of years before, using traditions that stretched back for generations. It had been wielded by masters, guardians of the peace and traditions that he venerated. Now it was his turn to continue that tradition.

Tadibya sat cross legged by the fire, sandwiched between a male tribesman in his mid-twenties and an older woman who had pulled out some yarn and two shaped bones and was now furiously knitting whilst humming some music under her breath. Tadibya barely noticed through, as she was still reeling from the direct intervention of her spirit totem into recent events. A dreamy smile caressed her lips as she remembered the feeling – the power, the connection, the sense of wholeness as she was enveloped in the spirit of the land and made part of a greater whole. She remembered the fear and doubt, and the sense of love and compassion that had filled her heart to drive them out. She remembered the determination to fight, not just for herself but for the others around her. She remembered the mana dancing around her, obeying her commands, guarding and protecting them with Great Elk's help.

She glanced around the fire, her eyes seeing both the physical and the astral forms, watching as they interacted. Her senses probed and touched the auras, watching as they responded to her. Slowly she reached out with her power, forming and shaping her will around first one, then another. The mana responded, slowly at first, but then faster as she became less hesitant. The motes of power gathered around their chakra, their spirit, and coalesced. A glowing barrier assembled in astral space, tightly woven around the being. The crowd didn't notice, being entranced with the display of swordsmanship. With a mental flick, Tadibya released the mana, the barrier dissipating quickly and the power returning to her to use again. She selected a new person, and threw the power at his astral form, weaving tendrils of energy around them in a protective cowl. As she practiced, she realised she could only effect one person at a time, and the barrier was weak and diffuse…. But that was something that she was sure she could fix with practice and time.

Marius and Kai withdrew from the circle too, sitting a little way back and keeping to themselves as much as possible. They smiled politely and took sips of drinks when offered, and didn't offend their hosts – but they didn't throw themselves into the celebration in the same way that Shimazu had.

Marius had suffered a painful and deliberating blast of damage when the second set of rockets had taken out the truck, then been cuffed and kept a prisoner for several hours, apparently ready to be sacrificed. Then… well, he wasn't quite sure what had happened, but it had all been mystic mumbo jumbo, and he didn't care for it. Deep inside him the embers of rage burnt, and he idly imagined being in an attack chopper loaded down with munitions, strafing the camp and bringing them a little of his own flavour of sacrifice. The smile faded away as he thought of his truck and the damage it had suffered at the hands of these bandits, wondering just how they were going to fix things out here.

Kai, though, just sat and watched, seeing the people interact with each other, bouncing around in their social circles and occasionally spinning off to go to another group. For a moment he felt terribly homesick, missing his own tribe back in Mongolia, and the sense of belonging he had there. But yet… he knew he couldn't return. There was something that had driven him outwards, to search for answers, to be part of something bigger. He looked over to the brooding German and watched for a moment as Marius plotted the vehicular devastation of the camp, the athletic Japanese bodyguard Shimazu as he twirled and wove his beautiful but deadly dance, the stunned shaman exploring her powers that had saved them all that evening. He let his eyes flick up to the indistinct shapes on the hill of the odd English ork Hunter, brooding as he stared out into the desert, and the prone form of the giant African tribesman. Strange as they all were, he somehow felt connected to them, as if he was in exactly the right place, here and now.

The hours crept by, and gradually the celebrations diminished, people returning to their yurts to sleep off the drug induced headaches and shivers. The team sat out in the desert, waiting for sunrise, unsure if going to sleep was a good thing or not. Slowly they all came down from the various drugs ingested or inhaled, sweating slightly in the chill morning air and shuffling around as their joints ached. Hands rubbed faces to ease the tension in the cheek muscles.

As life started to pick back up in the camp, Kai went to see the junior shaman, to get him to arrange a meeting with the chief. Within a few minutes he was escorted to the largest yurt, and beckoned inside. The interior was smoky, several fires being used to cook food and heat water, and inside there was a mass of bodies strewn around on mats and rugs, slowly rousing. Various tribesmen and women wandered around naked, unconcerned and unashamed. Kai was shown to the back of the tent where a section was shrouded off with hangings, evidently the domain of the chief. Inside the man lay on a thick padded mat, surrounded by his women, sipping some kind of broth.

The chieftain spoke in English, and to a reasonable standard – saving Kai from trying to assemble words in a hodge-podge of languages to get his points across, and making the discussion go far more smoothly. After complimenting the Chief on their hospitality and the quality of the feast the previous night (while skipping over the ambush, shooting and the whole issue of sacrifice), Kai raised the point about their status – and that of their truck. Was it considered the spoils of war? Were they free to go, could they take all their gear? The chief considered his position, thinking on the night before and the events. As the chief supped at his brew, Kai negotiated, explaining a little about the team and trying to interest the chief into a deal of some kind.

Eventually it was decided – the team were free to go, with the truck. The tribe had a number of needs – mostly spare parts for vehicles, that they had trouble obtaining. The team would get the gear, and bring it to the tribe, who would pay for the parts, but not the delivery. If the team did this, then the account was squared.

Given the pounding headache that Kai was currently labouring under, along with the aches and the lack of sleep, it wasn't a bad deal, so he took it. They exchanged commlink frequencies and contact details, and the chief said he would get someone to get a list to them soon. Leaving the chief's yurt, Kai wandered over with some of the tribesmen towards the truck to share the news with the rest of the team and get them back on the road. Some of the tribe's mechanics started to lift the bonnet, but Aswon stopped them until Marius could get there to supervise their work. What he saw almost made him wish he hadn't.

Lacking the correct fuses to replace those blown by the zapper attack, they worked on a field expedient system. Angle grinders were applied to the shafts of old screwdrivers and nails, and they were wedged and forced into the holders to create the electrical path required for operation of the system. Of course, they had a capacity to take a lightning strike, which meant that any other attack would just vaporise the electronics behind them, rather than blowing and saving them… Marius looked incredibly unhappy, but didn't really have any alternative.

As the junior shaman watched over proceedings, Aswon and Tadibya had a brief discussion, then Tadibya approached him and asked if they had any of the magical compounds from the night before available for sale? The shaman cocked his head and thought for a moment, then deferred, wandering off to speak to his elder first. When he returned, he said that yes, they did. They had a little Deepweed, which they could let the team have for a grand, and doses of Rock Lizard Blood at one and a half grand each. Tadibya glanced at Aswon as he considered – he really wanted some of the compounds which had all sorts of potential uses – but the price was quite steep. Unfortunately, this was a sellers' market, and there was such limited availability that he really didn't know where else he could get some. Aswon glanced to the back of the truck, where the herbal radicals they had obtained from the smugglers mountain camp were stored, and raised an eyebrow. Tadibya excused herself for a moment and went for a sample which she presented, and they were examined and found to be of some worth and interest.

Negotiations began, a lazy roaming conversation that was bought to a somewhat abrupt halt when Rakur – the shaman - mentioned one of the things that could sweeten the deal – a 2kg packet of jumbo salted peanuts. The unusual request threw Aswon off his stride for a moment, but on consideration – it wasn't a normal food here, and was probably not just expensive, but also hard to get. Then he had an idea, making his excuses and going to see Tadibya

Tadibya and Aswon discussed – Rakur wanted nuts. They had salt. Tadibya could create food magically. So far she'd done oats – a nice and simple food, and easy to produce. How did she feel about nuts? After several false starts and attempts, she had it cracked and made a batch of nuts, the mana creating the nuts seemingly out of nowhere and funnelling from her hands into one of the jars from the truck. Adding a sprinkle of salt and shaking, they took them to Rakur to see if they hit the spot.

Rakur's eyes widened on seeing the fruits of their labour, and a greedy hand shot out to sample the wares. A handful of nuts were thrust into the mouth, and the jaw started to work. Another hand pushed some more nuts in, and now he looked more like a squirrel or chipmunk, bulging cheeks distended by the food and a look of bliss on his face. Negotiations resumed….

After a little while, and some more adroit negotiations from Kai, it was agreed that two doses of Rock Lizard Blood and one batch of Deepweed would be exchanged for a large container holding several kilos of herbal radicals and a few jars of peanuts…

Just after lunchtime, the truck was working again, the supplies were loaded, and they set out across the dunes and scrubland, back towards the main road where they could turn north towards Turkmenabat. Thirty minutes of careful driving get them back onto the blacktop, then they turned and accelerated north, slowly picking up speed.

About five kilometres short of Turkmenabat, there was a loud bang from the front of the truck, and a small amount of bluish grey smoke started to funnel out of the vents – and then every electrical system in the vehicle went down again. Marius disengaged and the truck drifted to a halt on the fortunately straight section of road. Popping the covers, a loose wire was quickly found and identified as the reason for the short – shaken loose from the off-road drive over the desert and then the acceleration to top speed on the highway. Unfortunately, it looked to have brushed against the ECM module mounted in the equipment bay, and looked to have burnt out the input power supply. If it had fried the module, they were looking at upwards of sixty thousand for a replacement… The scoring on the terminals didn't look too bad, but until Marius could get to a proper test facility, he wouldn't know. For now, they taped up the loose connecter and checked over the rest to make sure nothing else would go bad, then lowered the armoured covers and got back under way.

Hunter pulled up the maps, and checked distances between them and their objective, working out where to stop for fuel and rest. As they entered Turkmenabat, he pointed out that there was an airport here – not international, it only handled local traffic – but where there was an airport, there were support vehicles. And support vehicles needed maintenance, which needed a facility of some sort. The team discussed quickly and agreed it was worth a stop to check.

Closing on the airport approach road, they turned off to the cargo terminal, and approached the single guard on the gate, who was relaxing in his little guard hut. Kai explained what they were after, and the man in very broken English directed them to a garage on the other side of town, run by his brother. He drew out a map for them, and as the team got back on the road to follow his directions they saw him get on the phone.

Wondering if they were due to be ambushed, the team got weapons ready – just in case – and started to watch the road carefully. Tadibya asked Marius to drive slowly on the corners and then relaxed into her seat, her astral form leaping from the body and flitting ahead. As she closed on the location, a black void of awful death and emotion pulled at her, distracting her. She shied away from it, and looked down at the run-down area of industrial units, with their toxic pollution and air of poverty. It wasn't pleasant, but neither could she see any sign of ambush. She sped back to the road and looked for the truck, waiting at a corner for the truck to slow so she could leap back into her body more easily. When she stirred, she gave the team the all clear, but also warned them about the horrible location she had seen.

Hunter barely had time to check the map and announce the location as being an amusement park before they were upon it – an abandoned and sad-looking place, chained up and rusty with signs over the games that had the look of "closed – forever" in the local language. It was a desolate-looking place physically, and Tadibya looked away, not wanting to see the evil and pervasive atmosphere present in astral space.

They skirted the amusement park, and found a man waiting for them outside a pipe manufacturers in the industrial area. Wearing a red tracksuit with white detail, he waved when he saw the truck, walking towards where they pulled up. He too spoke only broken English, but looked at the fuses required with Marius, then worked out some figures in his head, before spouting a price that made the team go quiet for a moment – fifteen hundred Nuyen. He obviously realised they didn't have any local knowledge, and had gone for the 'full gouge with no lube' option… Kai took a step forward and smiled at him… and concentrated on his body language and demeanour. Somatic control made his mimicry of the man easier, and his eyes flitted over him, picking up on tiny cues and tells in his features. The negotiations were short, and remarkably one sided – and a scant two minutes later the man – Gretya – had agreed that five hundred was a much more reasonable price, and he would fetch them immediately. And he'd throw in some of the Christmas tree air fresheners too…

Somewhat bemused by this apparent generosity, he got in a battered Lada and trundled off. Tadibya winked at the team, jumped back in the truck and got comfy – and a second later started to trail him astrally. A few minutes later she saw him pull into an auto-dealers located in a winding back street area and make the necessary purchases and spent the time making sure she could recreate the route. He came back directly, not trying anything funny, and the team paid him for the fuses and began to fit them to the truck, prying out the bits of nail and makeshift breakers.

Whilst they were working, they asked Gretya about the amusement park. He told them it had broken a little while back, killing a large number of children and had been closed since then. He didn't appear to be particularly sad about it, but didn't have any more information, so the team let it be.

An hour later all the fuses were swapped and replaced with the proper components. The ECM module still reported as dead, and a number of the electronic systems still needed to be calibrated – but they were good to go.

Hunter suggested that they stop over here for today, in one of the hostels or hotels. By his calculations, they should be able to make Tashkent the following day. He'd already plotted several places to stay, and after a bit of driving, they found a suitable hostel. Paying the thirty Nuyen for the rooms, it took only a minute for Tadibya to forcibly stun the lice population to inactivity. The team rested overnight, and got back on the road in the morning.

The journey to Bakura went without a hitch, and they pushed on though the ancient city, ignoring the monuments and statues to a five millennia history with barely a glance. By lunchtime they had reached Samarkand – or at least the main road running around the densely packed city. Again, they ignored the ancient city, pushing the truck onwards along the roads that grew quiet after thirty kilometres from a major town or city. Mid-afternoon saw them on a long sweeping curve, cut into high flanking hills as the road wound up some ancient fault line to a higher plateau. Lulled into boredom by hundreds of uneventful kilometres of driving, they didn't notice as the first bandit rose from behind a rock, raising the tube to his shoulder….